


White Lines, Black Matter

by ithinkyourewonderful



Category: The Fall (TV), The Fall (UK 2013)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-30
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-01 22:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4036825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithinkyourewonderful/pseuds/ithinkyourewonderful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s a collision of the worlds - and she doesn’t know what to do."  </p><p>Takes place (mostly) after what I suspect will be Series 3, once Stella has returned home.  It starts a out a bit soft but I hope you’ll stick with it (and with me).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

She holds on to her daughter’s hand a little tighter. Despite the fact they’re in the heart of the Met’s headquarters, she is still protective, especially with Ellie’s habit of wandering off. “This is certainly not the museum, mum.” Ellie comments, a dig at how she promised to take her daughter to the National Gallery after a slight detour. She resists rolling her eyes at her daughter’s speeding approach to to teenage angst. She barely survived getting her eldest daughter off to uni without throttling her - she says a quick prayer she can say the same about her youngest. “In a minute dearest,” she murmurs, distracted by reading the names on the doors until she finds the one she’s looking for, lights off, handle unyielding. She tries to peek in through the frosted glass but can only make out white light from the fog and the black weight of her belongings. In Belfast, Stella seemed larger than life at times, absorbing all the oxygen, all the light, drawing all matter towards her but here, it seems all it takes to contain her is a small room, a box of glass and wood. 

She avoids drawing a morbid comparison as she roots around her purse for her notebook and a pen. She jots a quick note, scrawls her name and slides it under the door. She feels guilty, in a way, for intruding in Stella’s life like this, unexpectedly. If the situation was reversed and she found herself in possession of an unexpected note from the other woman, how would she feel? Intruded upon? Upset? Relieved? A combination of all three? She shakes the thought from her mind as she rises, clears the guilt out. After all, what was a casual visit between almost-friends? Wouldn’t it be worse if word somehow reaches Stella that she was in town and hadn’t stopped by? Of course it would be, she tells herself. She stops by because she wants to prove to Stella and herself that nothing is between them that doesn’t exist between two friends. Two casual acquaintances. “Now, shall we carry on with our day?”

She almost misses Stella, standing a few feet away, observing, always observing. It seems the year that passed did nothing to alter the other woman, at least physically. There she was in the same black heels, same black pencil skirt, same silky blouse peeking through a trench, same blonde hair, same pursed lips and quirked eyebrow and... Tanya realizes, the same racing f her heartbeat. “What are you doing here?” The words bounce off the walls, the near-empty halls, but are from neither of their mouths. She turns her head to see an older woman, well-dressed in pressed slacks and crisp shirt. There's tasteful jewelry adorning her neck and wrists. There's an open folder in hand. “I thought I told you Monday, Stella.”  
“I took it as more of a suggestion than an order.” Stella responds with an uncharacteristic shrug. “Why put off to tomorrow and so forth.”  
“I can make it an order Gibson.” The other woman orders as she stands between Reed and Stella. “Your train just arrived last night? This morning? Take the day, process, unpack, do laundry, read a book. I don’t care, just as long as you’re not here.” She snaps the folder shut and blinks as if seeing Reed for the first time. Perhaps she is. “Hello, may we help you?”  
“Chief Superintendent Marshall, allow me to introduce Professor Tanya Reed-Smith of Police Service of Northern Ireland, and her daughter Eleanor.” Reed notices her daughter’s head turn at the recognition, but she says nothing, observing the others around her. Brief pleasantries are exchanged. Marshall smiles as she implores Reed to take Stella with her and see that she enjoys herself, perhaps even see the sunshine. She sighs then continues her way down the hall, leaving the three of them alone.

“Hello.”  
“Hello Stella.”  
“Well then, shall I see what your note says?” Stella asks, making a move towards her office door.  
“You’re more than welcome to on Monday morning when you return to work. Right now, however, we’ve been assigned a task, isn’t that right Ellie?”  
“She wasn’t serious.”  
“She outranks you DSI.”  
“You must be Eleanor,” Stella changes the subject swiftly, her eyes darting from Tanya to her daughter. “I’m Stella.”  
“How did you know I’m Eleanor?”  
“Your mother has a photo of you in her office.”  
“Is it that rubbish one with my teeth missing?”  
“Well, your teeth were missing, but I’d hardly call it rubbish.” Stella commented. “It’s actually quite sweet.”  
“Robbie Schaefer knocked out my teeth the day before.”  
“Well I certainly hope you knocked his out.”  
“Stella!” Reed chastises both her daughter and her friend. “No!”  
“But I did mum.” Ellie smiles up at her mother, then at the other woman, “I did.”  
“I'm changing the topic now.” Reed sighs, “Come along Stella.” She turns to look at the other woman, standing there, looking slight and lost with her hands in the pockets of her trench. “We haven’t all day if we’re to make it through the whole of the Gallery.”  
“Mum’s taking me to the National Gallery. Have you ever been?” Ellie asks.  
“It’s one of my favorite places.”  
“Good. You can show us around. Mum gets lost in big buildings.”  
“I do not.”  
“Do too.” Ellie confronts her mother before turning back to Stella. “It took us forever to find you.”  
“Did it now?” Stella asks, catching Reed’s eye, daring the other woman to look away. Reed, for what it was worth, doesn’t break beneath Stella’s scrutiny. 

 

The three of them walk down the near deserted hall towards the lifts.


	2. Chapter 2

The day is sunny, but crisp. The leaves and their coats rustle in the wind, and it’s about halfway through their walk through St. James Park that Tanya is thankful for the cup of coffee that warms her hands. 

It’s been too long since she was back in London, funny how that happen, she thinks to herself as she watches as Stella and Ellie lead the way a few paces ahead. She can hear snatches of her daughter’s voice carry back over the wind. It’s humorous in a way, the ever-contained Stella and the expressive child beside her. One a near silent warrior of a woman and the other who rushes a mile a minute about the children in her class, maths, the paintings she wants to see and and and… 

Tanya supposes she’s let the other woman suffer enough and speeds up her pace to meet them. “I’m starting to feel left out on my own back there.” She teases.  
“You seemed to be enjoying the solitude.”   
“It was a novelty, I assure you.”  
“So I gather.” Stella comments, keeping her eyes on the path ahead, her lips struggling to not smile.  
“I was trying to be hospitable.” Ellie interjects to the women who flank her. “I didn’t want Stella to feel left out.”  
“You’re very astute. Are you sure you’re not 42?”  
“I'm eight. If I were 42, I’d be married, and have children.”  
“Not necessarily. We’re almost there.”

They have exited the park and walk along the mall. Somehow, Stella looks down, Ellie’s hand has found it’s way into hers. Her eyebrow rises, but she pretends not to notice. “Do you see that statue there?” She slips her hand out of Ellie’s and points to the bronzed sculpture of the winged horse tamed by a woman. “That’s one of my favorites.”   
“Really? What’s it for?”  
“Why don’t you go take a look?” Stella suggests, tucking her hands back into her pocket, her coffee cup long since binned. “She won’t bite Stella.” Tanya points out eventually. “You were doing just fine.”  
“I’m…not accustomed to children.”  
“No you’re not.” Tanya concedes, watching the fairer skinned woman’s face redden with the wind and the attention.  
“I should leave you both to your day.”  
“You’re going to walk with us the rest of the way first.”  
“I can hop on at Charing Cross.”  
“You’re going to walk with us the rest of the way, and then, if you decide you’d like to leave, you will say goodbye. Properly. You can’t just go popping in and out of the lives of the Reed-Smith women.”  
“I seem to recall you’re the one with a habit of popping in on my doorstep.”  
“Semantics, DSI.” Reed teases, smiling to lighten the moment.  
“You’re beautiful when you smile.” The other woman replies, realizing she hasn’t seen it often.   
“Stella.” Reed warns, smile fading but not disappearing. This woman truly is incorrigible. “Come along Elle, I’m freezing!”

They make quick work the rest of the walk, passing through the Admiralty Arch and arriving at the famed Gallery. Ellie races up the steps and bounces as she watches the grown ups take their time. “She's excited, isn’t she?”  
“She’s also been dosed with a cup of hot chocolate.”  
“It seemed a good idea at the time.”  
“Like those shoes?”  
“What’s wrong with these shoes?” Stella asks. “They make my legs look great.” And with that she hurries her pace, leaving Reed to admit that the heels did indeed make the other woman’s legs look incredible. 

By the time she makes it, Stella’s at the head of the queue holding up three tickets.  
“Three?” Reed comments.   
“Why did I bother putting up with you again?”  
“Simple, because you like me.”  
“You do flatter yourself, don’t you Doctor?” Their eyes connect for a moment before Ellie takes their hands and proceeds to drag them along.

The museum is sprawling and busy, but once they get out of the atrium and into the rooms, the hush takes over. The ground floor is rapidly declared boring and Ellie leads them up where all the ‘cool stuff’ is. They let her wander as they follow behind, shoulder to shoulder. This is not how either of them expected their day to unfold.   
“So how have you been?”  
“What are you thinking?”

Their words overlap.

“You first.” Reed allows.  
“I was about to ask you - how have you been?”  
“Fine. Great. Good.” There’s silence for a moment. “We were in town visiting my eldest, Elizabeth, who’s at LSE. Rose asked if I was going to look you up, and I said no. And she asked why, and I didn’t have a single reason not to.”  
“Did you tell her?”  
“Yes. No. Not all of it.”  
“Which part didn’t you tell her?”  
“What were you thinking?” Reed changes the subject.  
“Hmmmm?” Stella asks, having wandered a step away to look at one of the paintings. “I love this one. I always have.” ‘The Louvre under Snow’, the nameplate reads. “It just… It feels familiar. I was thinking ‘this is what it feels like to be normal’.”  
“You’re normal Stella.”  
“You know what I mean.” She smiles and moves on to the next painting. “I really do think this is one of my favorite rooms.”  
“Do you mean because normal people don’t see what we’ve seen?” Reed asks, stepping beside the other woman, her eye never straying from her daughter who’s made a friend up ahead. She makes eye contact with the little boys parents and offers a wave and a smile.  
“What happened to doubling? Your two selves?”  
“Which part didn’t you tell Rose?”  
“The part when you left.”

She remembers the day. 

Quite well. 

What she remembers and what she has filled in having replayed it over and over isn’t clear, but so be it. She didn’t stop at the front desk. She didn’t call to let her know she was on her way. She strode off the elevator and caught the eye of a woman in last night’s clothes entering. The woman had dark hair, dark eyes and favors her quite a bit. She doesn’t know if she should be view it as a complement or if she should be upset. She’s still debating the options when she knocks on Stella’s door. “Oh - come in.” Her voice is hoarse from sleep still and dear God, she feels her stomach drop and clench at the sight of Stella Gibson, undone and just fucked. There’s no mistaking it. “How can I help you?” She asks as she walks away towards the washroom. The hotel room is partially dark, the room and the unmade bed being lit by the colorless light of another grey Belfast morning. She can hear the shower turn on. She can smell the sex still in the air - it doesn’t help with her nerves. “Do you mind if I shower? I have a bit of a time thing.” Stella admits from the other side of the half-opened door. Reed doesn’t say anything, but catches Stella’s reflection in the mirror as she slips out of the thin robe and into the shower. She moves towards the bed and against her better judgement, runs her hand over the white fabric, plucking a long black strand of hair, letting it drop to the floor. “Should I be flattered, Stella?”  
“What? I can’t hear you.”  
“I said, should I be flattered?” She makes her way to the doorway and nudges it open but doesn’t cross the threshold. From here she can see Stella’s outline, nothing more. “At the similarities. That woman and myself.”  
“It wasn’t about flattering you.”  
“Coincidence?”  
“Jealous?” Stella shoots back, turning to rinse her hair.  
“Well, at least she didn’t look familiar.”  
“Belfast has taught me a valuable lesson.”  
“Don’t shit where you eat?” She asks over-sweetly.  
“Did you come here for a reason?”  
“Are you going somewhere?” Reed asks, spotting the suitcase at the door.  
“Yes.” The shower shuts off. “Home. If you’re going to stand there, be useful and hand me a towel.” Reed hands one over from where she stands. After a moment, the curtain slides back to reveal Stella, soaking, wrapped in the towel. “I’ll wait outside.” She steps out and takes a seat on the edge of the bed. She tries to process. It doesn’t matter now, why she came over so early. It doesn't matter that Stella fucked that woman who wasn’t her. It didn’t matter that seeing her free from all the trappings and armor that made her ‘Stella Gibson’ made her want her more. Made the ache between her legs spread. It was too late. Her Father always warned her that she was too cautious, too careful for her own good. He always wanted her to take more risks, go after what she wanted. What would he say now? He probably didn’t mean the advice as a suggestion that she have wild, indiscriminate sex with another woman, but…maybe he did. He was always an odd one. She missed him, suddenly, deeply and fiercely. She has to blink the tears out of her eyes. “Penny for your thoughts?” Stella murmurs, stepping out of the washroom. She’s buttoning up her blouse, her hair wrapped in a towel, her face bare and ruddy. “I think I shall miss you Stella.” Reed admits, a sad sort of smile across her face.   
“You’ll forget me before I’m even through the security queue.” She returns. She understands, however. The undercurrent of attraction that runs between them is strong. It’s overwhelming at times. But beneath it is a very real sense of kinship. There shouldn’t be, not really. They don’t have much in common other than their work. Perhaps that’s enough? “Why did you come over if you didn’t know I was going back?”  
“I wanted to talk … to clear the air.” She confesses, watching from her vantage on the bed as the other woman applied her make up, her perfume. Is this what it feels like for a man? To watch a woman as another, other being? The pain in her belly spreads upwards. There is a foreignness to this experience, to viewing it from this end. The feeling of desire, not just for another person, but to possess this other person as if they were a thing. “Just as well.”  
“Just as well.” Stella repeats as she steps out of the washroom and turns off the light. She shoves her robe into the pocket of her suitcase and her make up bag into her Longchamp. 

The room is brighter, more colorless light has come in. Everything is either washed out or too dark. “Do you need a ride to the airport?”  
“On the back of your bike?” She smiles from where she stands at the other side of the room. “PC Ferrington’s offered to give me a ride. But thank you.” Her phone chirps. “That’ll be her now.”  
“Well, I suppose this is goodbye then.” Reed rises from the bed and moves towards the door. “Until I forget you I mean.”  
“It’ll happen quicker than you know.” Stella shrugs. “Tanya?” Still barefoot, she steps towards Reed and rises on her tiptoes. She runs a light hand over Reed’s leather jacket, adjusting it. She hovers there for a moment, before taking a breath, closing her eyes and placing a soft kiss on her cheek. 

Yes, Tanya Reed-Smith remembers that day. She remembers it quite well.

She feels the prick of tears at her eyes once more. She wonders what her father would say at this. She realizes she doesn’t recognize anyone in the room, and kicks herself for getting distracted. Her heart races as she makes her way from one room to the next - the rapid travel through the seemingly unending doorways making her feel like Alice falling down into Wonderland. She catches up to Stella, Ellie at her side, talking about something on the wall. Something about Cézanne and the geometry of nature and the origins of cubist theory. Stella catches her eye and while never breaking stride with Ellie, wordlessly asks if she’s alright. She nods, relieved. After Paul, after Rose, she’s been… well, it would affect anyone. She takes a moment, she takes a breath, and joins her daughter. “But how do you know all this?”  
“Because I went to school for it.”  
“But you’re a policeman.”  
“People can know lots of things - from books and travel and watching and doing. I went to school for a lot of things.”  
“My dad has 4 degrees and my mum has 3 and Lizzy’s working on her first. How many do you have?”  
“Hundreds.”Stella’s voice gets overdramatic. It appears she’s learning how to engage with this child.   
“Mum, when I get older, can I get hundreds of degrees like Stella if I wanted?”  
“Absolutely. I don’t know where we’d put them all but we’ll muddle through.” She wraps a loose arm around her daughter’s shoulder, reassuring herself her daughter is here. 

There is no danger.

Her daughter is fine. 

She’s here with her daughter and Stella, and everything is fine.


	3. Chapter 3

“Are we going to your home Stella? Am I going to meet your mum like you met mine?” 

Ellie bounces with excitement between the two women, nestled in the back of a hack. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” She lowers her head closer to Ellie.  
“Yes!”  
“I am a foundling,” She whispers dramatically, “I was hatched from an egg and raised on the wind.”  
“You are fibbing, Stella.” Ellie exclaims with wonder. “Mum, she’s fibbing. Make her tell the truth.”  
“I can’t dearest.” Reed explains, turning her head away from the two to watch London get washed clean by the rain. “Stella never fibs.”  
“Never?”  
“Never ever.” Stella confesses straight faced as she turns to the driver. “You can stop here.”

They clamor out, trying (and failing) to stay dry between the car and the townhouse they’ve pulled up to. Stella leads them in and up, up, up the stairs to the top flat where she fumbles for a moment with the keys before she manages to opens the door and leads them in to her darkened flat. 

She looks about her near-spartan surroundings as though seeing it for the first time - she does this, time to time, viewing her flat as if she’s at work, trying to ascertain what can be gathered about her from her surroundings. Rather morbid, but then she’s always had an unorthodox view of the world. There are large windows, white washed walls, large couch, books and blouses and records and half-finished coffee cups everywhere telling her of a woman who is either unaccustomed or unbothered by others in her space. She collects the more telling odds and ends as she lets the two women in behind her. She hears Reed tell her daughter to be careful, and Stella can’t help but smile as she dumps the cups in the sink. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing precious to be careful of here.” She explains as she puts on the kettle. She’s not domestic, but she does insists on her tea being made in a pot, her water boiled on in a kettle. She steps out to see Reed standing out dark amongst the lightness of the room, anchoring it with her presence. She loves that even without sunlight, the city is…light. The fog and the streetlights casting everything in a dreamy haze. Surely that’s what this is - a dream. Her flat hasn’t seen a child in it during her time here and now there’s one in the corner, face pressed against the large empty glass aviary. Not just any child, Tanya’s child. And Reed? It’s a collision of her worlds - and she doesn’t know what to do. She’s not good with children. She’s not good with friends. Or with Reed. Or with her heart constricting slowly in her chest. “You ok?” Reed asks, stepping into her sightline, displaying concern. “Stella?” The little one asks, turning to them both. “Is this where you sleep?”  
“Why yes Hatchling, this is my home.” No need to explain her desires to sleep anywhere but here if she’s alone.  
“I’m not a hatchling, I came from mum. I meant, is this glass cage where you sleep?”  
“Not in a very long time, not since I was your age.” Stella smiles.   
“I still think you’re fibbing.” She says, “You don’t look like a bird.”  
“Don’t I?” She purses her lips out as if shaping them into a bird’s beak. “Mum,” Stella turns around, “Don’t I look like a bird?” She sees a look of terror pass through Reed’s eyes then disappear just as swiftly as it appeared. 

A moment passes between them, Stella trying to decipher the look while Reed tries to hide it. 

“I’ll check on the tea.” Stella announces, breaking the moment. “Why don’t you grab something dryer for… you both?” She suggests to Tanya.  
“We should probably go, now that we’ve made sure you’ve made it home safe.”  
“You can, but you’ll be hard pressed to find a taxi for hire during rush hour in the rain. My room is the second door on the left. There should be some sweaters in the bottom drawer.” 

She leaves the choice to Reed as she returns to her kitchen, pulling down the teapot and her favorite tea. She tries to remember being Ellie’s age. It’s hard, she doesn’t like remembering anything at all. But she can remember toast soldiers with tea. Her fingers jammy and sticky from making them march along the table. She pulls the bread out from the fridge and ignores that it contains no more than a few carry out containers of undetermined age. 

She keeps her mind busy. She keeps her hands busy. 

She plates some biscuits. This is … making her uncomfortable. Tanya’s children, Tanya’s life outside of what she knew of her was a deterrent, a barrier between her and the other woman. If she was honest, she didn’t want to know more about the other woman than she already knew… and even that was too much. She wanted her. She wanted her that night, she wanted her every night she was in Belfast, and if she’s honest, there are nights where she still wants her. She tells herself it’s because she was thwarted in her pursuits of the other woman, she tells herself it’s because she doesn’t accept failure in herself The truth is, there is something about Tanya Reed-Smith that makes her chafe, that makes her feel trapped, even here in her own home, in her own skin. She rolls her shoulders back and takes a deep breath as the kettle whistles and the toaster ‘dings’ completion. She pours the hot water into the pot and turns to fetch the jam when she notices Tanya leaning by the fridge, watching her. She’s in a large knit sweater - wine colored. “Looks better on you than it ever did on me.” Stella smiles as leans in and kisses her softly, nipping the other woman’s lower with her teeth. One of them hums with approval - she can’t tell who. She pulls away after a moment and opens the fridge and grabs the jam.  
“Stella?” Ellie calls from the other room, “Can I put on a movie?”  
“If your mother says yes.” She starts to butter the toast.  
“Mum?”  
“Ah - yes.” Reed doesn’t take her eyes off Stella. “What was that?”  
“Thought I’d break the ice.” She spreads the jam.  
“Yes, well, that certainly did it. My daughter’s in the next room.”   
“So she is.” She slices them bread into strips. “Can you get the tea?” She asks, nodding towards the teapot, her own hands filled with plates and cups. “Sugar’s in the jar beside it, milk is…well…” Before she can leave the room, feels Tanya’s lips press against hers artlessly, but most definitely earnestly. “I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time.” Tanya whispers before pulling away fully and turning her attention to the teapot and sugar. “Well.” Stella mutters to herself, taking a deep breath to squelch the tugging of desire before heading out. 

She sets the plate on the coffee table and watches Ellie, crosslegged on the floor, enraptured by the action on the screen. “Goblet of Fire?” Stella asks.   
“Prisoner of Azkaban.” Ellie replies, her eyes not stirring from the screen, “Goblet of Fire wasn’t in it’s case.”   
“I wonder where it could be?”  
“Harry Potter? Really Stella?” Tanya teases, setting down the pot of tea and pausing the screen. “Wash hands please.” She reminds her daughter, pointing to the sink in the kitchen. “Nieces and nephews?”  
“Mine actually, Doctor. It’s a rich illustration of the battle of good and evil, the choices one is faced with and…oh shut up.” She gives in, watching Tanya fail in containing her laughter.  
“And here I was thinking you were in it just for Bellatrix .”  
“Narcissa Malfoy if you please,” Stella smiles, pouring the tea into three tea cups. “Are you both dry enough? Warm enough?”  
“Plenty. Isn't that right Elle?” She asks her daughter, returning to the room. “All washed?” Ellie holds her hands up for her mum to smell, her little arms drowning in Stella’s old sweater sleeves. “Alright then, tea and toast. And say thank you to Stella for having us over.”  
“Thank you Stella! Can we watch Goblet of Fire next?”  
“I’ll see if I can find it.” She says. “I’m just…going to change into something dry myself.” She excuses herself and makes her way into her room and sits on the edge of her bed. 

She looks at her hands, clasped in her lap. 

She needs a moment. She’ll be fine. 

She just needs a moment. 

She can tell someone else has been here. Reed was careful, the drawer is shut tight, but after Spector, she’s aware of these things. Paranoid in a very understandable way. And she knows herself - she’s exhausted at performing for Reed, for her daughter. This is not who she is, not really, not deep down. This is a coat she puts on, no different than her trench. A slight knock at the door pulls her out of the depths of her thoughts as she rises, reminding her she came in for a reason. “Everything ok?” Reed asks, slipping through the door, but staying close to it.   
“Yes, I just needed a moment.”  
“Alright.” She watches Stella pull a pair of wool pants from her closet, a dry shirt.   
“You do like to watch me, don’t you?” Stella teases, as she undoes her skirt and steps out of it. As she pulls her damp blouse off over her head. She simply shrugs as she watches the other woman get dressed, watches as she quickly braids her damp hair. She looks so different like this, still beautiful, because there’s nothing that can mar that, just different. “Well, shall we go out?”  
“In a minute.” Reed murmurs, stepping towards Stella. She wordlessly opens her arms and wraps them around the slight woman. “I’ve always…wondered…” She begins, breathing in the scent of Stella, “What this would feel like. After that night, after that morning. I just…wanted to know.” She doesn’t let go, she just holds the other woman, until she feels her shifting, and loosely bringing them to Reed’s waist.   
“Well, now you know.”  
“It feels nice.”  
“You certainly are crossing a lot of things off your to-do list today, aren’t you?” Stella mumbles into Reed’s skin, her face nestled in the tender curve between neck and shoulder, itchy wool against her cheek. She eases out of the embrace after a moment, unable to breathe, to think. “Shall we?” She asks, leading the way out the door.

*

She yawns.

A glimpse at her wrist watch reveals it’s almost 40 minutes after she last checked the time - apparently she had dozed off. She needs to go. She needs to leave. She needs to be anywhere but here. A glance reveals a domesticity she’s never desired in the form of a sleeping child at her feet, a movie near-muted on the screen, a partner laying beside her on the couch. She has spent the last few hours imagining this was her life - like how she imagines she’s never seen her apartment before; her childhood was a dream; she can save people and stop the gross evils of the world. In this case, she doesn’t like it. The flat that at times feels too big for one seems to have the walls close in on her with every sleepy blink. She imagines escape routes she can take - but none of them seem right. Just a few more hours of this and her existence will be restored to her. She can make it, she thinks to herself as she slides away from the sleeping Reed’s feet and rises. She gently repeats Eleanor’s name until the little girl yawns to life. “Good morning?”  
“Still night I’m afraid. Don’t you think you’d be more comfortable in bed?”  
“hmnnnahhh” Ellie mumbles.  
“Come along anyways.” Stella coaxes her up, leading her to the guest room at the end of the hall and settling her into bed, tucking the sheets around her. She smooths her hair back, as dark as her mother’s, and places a light kiss on her forehead. Performing maternal care as drag. “Good night Hatchling.”  
“Night Stella.” 

She returns to the main room and begins her nightly rituals as if Reed’s not on the sofa asleep. The television gets shut off. The doors and windows get checked. The lights go off one at a time, until she’s left standing alone in the room, lit only by the streetlights. She’s tempted to leave Reed there on the couch until she feels something, someone watching her through the dark. “You’re awake?”  
“Yes.”  
“Why didn’t you say anything?”  
“Wanted to see what you’d do. You’re a curious bird Stella Gibson.”  
“So you believe I’m a hatchling?”  
“I’m starting to, yes.” Tanya yawns and rises. “Do have a spare blanket?”  
“I can bring it out -“  
“I’ll get it - I’d like to check on Elle. Did she give you any trouble?”  
“None. She was still half-asleep though.”

They walk down the darkened hall, the air between them vibrating with…so many different emotions and sensations. “She’s in there.” Stella whispers, pointing to the room at the end of the hall while she turns left, towards her bedroom. She turns on the lamp at her bedside, then the radio, tuning the knob until she gets a steady stream of static. This is her ritual here between these walls. She removes her bedclothes from beneath her pillow, then after a moment’s thought, pulls another clean set from the drawers and sets them on the bed. She chooses to forget the spare blanket, moving to the bathroom instead where she brushes her teeth, washes her face. What is she doing? She silently asks herself as she looks at her reflection in the mirror, allowing herself a moment of doubt before she steps out and becomes unshakable Stella Gibson once more.

She dries her face and turns off the bathroom light. She pauses to watch Reed from the doorway, standing in the shadows by the window, flipping through a book. She focuses on the dull roar from the radio to keep her heart from swelling. “What does Stella keep by her bedside, I’ve often wondered.” Reed says, not bothering to look up from the book. “I’m ashamed to admit how often I think of that, what do you read when it’s too early to wake? Poetry was not one of the options that crossed my mind I’m ashamed to admit.” She finishes the page. Shuts the book and returns it to it’s rightful place. “Are these for me?” She asks, gesturing towards the clothes Stella put out earlier. “Yes.” She grabs her own clothes from beneath her pillow and turns her back, changing in front of the other woman for a second time today. She hears the water running, Reed must be in the bathroom. Funny, she prefers to think of her as Reed. It’s not her first name, but it’s her name - the one that suits her in Stella’s eyes. “Did you check on Ellie, is she alright?” She busies herself, returning her clothes back where they belong.   
“Yes, thank you for putting her to bed, you didn't have to.”  
“You looked too comfortable to wake.”  
“I admit I was.” Reed’s voice is closer. Stella turns to see her sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in her clothes, watching her.   
“Well,” She begins, “This looks familiar.”  
“Too much so, I’m afraid.”  
“What did you want to talk to me about that morning?” She asks, no need to specify which morning, which moment.  
“Nothing in particular,” Reed shrugs, her dark hair sliding off her shoulders to her back. “I just wanted to see you.”  
“It was early in the morning. What if I were asleep? Or otherwise engaged?” She makes her way over, one step, one word at a time, until she’s a step away from Reed, who shrugs once more to her question. “I just wanted to see you. I just wanted you that morning”  
“Wanted?” Stella asks, eyebrow raising, smile forming.  
“Still want.” Reed confesses, reaching out her hand to Stella and bringing her close. From her seated position, she wraps her arms around Stella’s waist, burying her face in the gentle swell of her stomach. She can feel the other woman breathing rapidly, which amuses her because her own breath has all but slowed to a stop. She places a kiss through the thin cotton, on Stella’s side, then slowly and deliberately works her way up. She knows she can lift the hem of the tank, but she’s not ready for the skin to skin contact. She’s not ready for that intimacy. It’s not that Stella’s a woman she thinks to herself from the fog of desire that seems to overcome her in this woman’s presence. 

It’s because she’s Stella Gibson and she is dangerous. 

Grown men cower in her presence and monsters shake at the thought, so what chance does she stand of surviving the onslaught that is Stella? She drowns her mind in these thoughts to combat her body’s growing desire, but it does nothing to stop it. She moves her mouth up her side, luxuriating in the curve at the side of her breast, that small and gentle slope, before she follows the strap of the tank top like a path up Everest, up over her clavicle, then across her trapezius. She focuses on these, the anatomical components that make up the woman beneath her mouth. She focuses on reciting these as she kisses up the path then drags her teeth down it once more. She focuses on these instead of the labored breathing from the other woman, the warm air of her breath on her ear, her hand on the back of her head guiding her mouth up, where they meet in a clash of teeth and lips. 

Oral commisure, Tanya thinks to herself. 

Lower vermillion border, she recites as she feels Stella tug on it with her teeth. 

Cupid’s bow. She all but laughs at that one, as she traces it with her tongue. Cupid’s bow.

She feels herself being backed against the bed until she’s eased back to sitting, then lying, Stella straddling her. In this dim light, she can’t make out anything except for the golden glow of her hair. “My bed’s more comfortable than the couch anyway,” Stella all but pants, her words coming out in halts and starts as she reaches across Reed to turn the lamp off. From this vantage point, she could just raise her head and brush her mouth against Stella’s breasts, collar of the loose tank hanging low. Again, she reminds herself that that is a line she cannot cross back from. She chooses instead to raise her hand and trace the tops with a light and gentle touch. She relishes the fact that Stella goes stiff in the dark, that she can hear the other woman take a sharp intake of air. She’s satisfied in knowing that it’s not only her that’s affected by this. “Stella - as beautiful as you are right now…” She slides herself up under Stella, so she’s now sitting, back against the pillows, “And you are…” She places a tender kiss on her lips, “I think we should stop.” 

She feels Stella’s weight shift back, then off of her. She’s kneeling on the bed, looking at her. At least she thinks she’s looking at her. She can’t quite see the other woman’s eyes in the darkness of the room, just the lightness of her hair, her night clothes. “Are you ok?” She finally asks.  
“I’m fine.” Stella says, or at least she thinks she says that. She can’t be certain what she hears over the quiet static from the radio.   
“You sure?”  
“Yes.”  
“Yes?”  
“You asked me to stop, and I’m stopping.” She feels a hand on her leg to reassure her. “I just - need a moment.”

They stay like that for a moment. She’s never been in a situation like this before, usually when she sets her mind to something, she commits, but this is altogether another beast. 

“I’m a little chilly, do you mind if I…?” Reed motions to the blanket they’re on top of.

Stella clambers off the bed and watches as Reed slides in between the cold sheets.   
 “Did you want to join me, Stella?” Reed asks, her voice taking on a forced jovial quality. “Or are you going to stand guard all night?” She holds the edge of the blanket up, inviting the other woman into her own bed, which she wordlessly joins. It’s not a large bed, but it feels enormous with the gulf between them. “Stella I’m sorry-”  
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”  
“It’s not that I don’t want this, want you. Just the opposite,” A wooden laugh erupts from her. “It’s just…”  
“Croydon?”  
“I wish it were that simple. Stella, I care for you a great deal, but I feel like one of us needs to be level-headed.”  
“We’re two consenting adults, I’m afraid I don’t understand what I’m not being level-headed about.”  
“I don’t see you as just a fuck, Stella. If I did, I wouldn’t care - I’d have you on your back in seconds.” They both ignore the sharp pain of desire pulling them inside out at the thought. “I see you as - I don’t know, a friend?” She turns on her side to face the other woman, stiff as a board as she lies on her back. “Do you understand?”  
“No. Not particularly.” She huffs, shifting her shoulders, trying to make her bed comfortable. “But I don’t have to understand, Reed. I just need to accept it.” She shuffles again.   
“You’re really terrible at this,” Reed laughs.  
“Friendship?” Stella asks, turning on her stomach.  
“Amongst other things.” Reed watches with amusement, Stella’s frustration evident. “You’re not accustomed to sharing a bed, are you?”  
“Not awake, no.”  
“Do you want to come closer?”  
“I’m…not a cuddler.” Stella states, turning from her stomach to her side, back to Reed.  
“I’m sorry if I made it awkward.”  
“Don’t be. I appreciate you stopping us when you did.”  
“Do you?”  
“I do, remember, I don’t fib.” She smiles, over her shoulder. 

A moment of silence. It’s not yet morning, but it’s well past midnight. 

“My father would take me to the Gallery when I was young. Ellie’s age - younger maybe?” She speaks. The words are heavy on her chest. She doesn’t know how to talk to Reed about the gulf between them, she doesn’t yet have the words. She can, however talk to her about this. The pain of one is somehow adjacent to the other. “We would walk by the statue. That’s how I knew we were close.” She feels the warmth of the other woman’s hand as it brushes her hair back, soothing in the way mothers can do. “At home, he would put me on his back like that horse, and I would feed him sugar cubes and carrots.”   
“That sounds lovely.” Reed says as she continues to smooth Stella’s hair.  
“It wasn’t anything, not really.” Stella shrugs, but she feels the weight against her chest lighten, ever so slightly. She breathes deeply, knowing the feeling of lightness is momentary and will pass. She shifts closer to Reed, closer the other body in bed, and then closer still, until the other body moves closer to her, as the bridge the gap between them, until Reed wraps an arm loosely around Stella’s waist. “Think you can sleep now?” Reed whispers, the words half lost in Stella’s hair. She tries not to think about the word that almost made it out of her mouth, caught at the last second.  
“Only if you can stop smiling, Doctor?”   
“I’’ll try, but you know, it’s a natural response to being right, which I am, constantly.”  
“Shut up!” Stella laughs softly.   
“Good night Stella.”  
“Good night.”

Stella stays awake long after Reed. She uses the time to think about so many things: Why she let her in her bed in the first place? Why she has a preference of calling her Reed instead of Tanya? Where, in the clear division of herself, did the other woman lay? She didn’t quite fit one or the other, somehow managing to straddle the divide, pull together the pieces that Stella had worked so hard to remain as separate and distinct. This was an uncomfortable thought. One she was thankful for not having to ponder for much longer. 

The sun will rise, and Reed and Eleanor will leave. 

She will make a cup of strong coffee, dark and smooth.

She will wash the soft scent of the other woman out of her clothes, out of her sheets and out of her home. 

She just needs to make it through the night. This barter with herself in not unfamiliar. She knows she can do it. 

She takes a breath, releases a breath. She does this to quell the desire gnawing in her belly. She wants this woman, more and more. In part because she can't have her and in part because she doesn’t, deep down, want to hurt her like she’s hurt so many others. That’s what she does. She hurts them and she doesn’t know why and she doesn’t know how to stop and if she’s honest, she doesn’t know if she really wants to stop except she doesn’t want to hurt Reed. 

She just needs to make it through the night.


	4. Chapter 4

She doesn’t know if she should be surprised to hear that Stella has been back in town for two days.

She doesn’t go to see her, she doesn’t even get angry about it, nor mad. 

Not even upset or slighted. 

In some weird way, it makes sense that Stella didn’t or wouldn’t tell her. They don’t talk about much when they occasionally text. They say even less on the rare phone calls, late at night. Short calls with short words. They don’t bother to put words to shades of emotions that hover between and around them. It is, Reed thinks as she begins the first incision on her latest patient, like trying to pick out where the yellow ends and the orange begins in a sunset. It’s futile - why not enjoy the sunset and accept it for what it is? Having children has been a bit of a reality check, she finds; you don’t waste energy with needless worrying when you have so much legitimate worrying to do. She knows she can accept their nebulous relationship for what it is. She can accept that Stella wants to fuck her, and she has come to accept the fact that she wants to be fucked by Stella. It is entirely Stella who is unsure or unable to accept their friendship. Her texts are distant, her calls encrypted with some emotional code that she doesn’t know how to decipher. 

So she doesn’t. 

She doesn’t have the time for it. When (and if) Stella is ready, she knows where to find her. Tanya has her own problems and she’d rather not seek out others if she can help it. In this case, her husband finalizing their divorce. It’s not as if she doesn’t want it, but he’s seeking joint custody of Ellie and she doesn’t know what to think. She’s mulling this over as she goes through the examination of the body when she hears a knock at the observation window - Stella. She motions for her to come in.  
“Hello stranger.” Stella drawls, as if it’s Tanya who’s been away and she’s the one who’s stayed.  
“Hello you, I was wondering when I’d see you.” She smiles, even though she knows it’s hidden my the face mask. “What brings you back? The trial’s not for another few months?”  
“Some work - the Crown needed to review a few things.” Stella leans against the counter and Tanya can’t help but notice her, the line of her leg, the hem of her skirt, the softness of her blouse, the grin across her face. “Who’s this?”  
“Missing person - Nigel Lowrey - thought to have drowned but there’s some suspicious marks so here we are.”   
“Here we are.” 

Stella watches Reed work for a few moments before she speaks.

“Fancy grabbing dinner tomorrow?”  
“What about tonight?”  
“I have plans.” No unnecessary details. No need to ask.  
“Sure then. How ‘bout you pop round instead?” Tanya offers, “I can pull something together. Toast soldiers?”  
“My favorite.”  
“I gathered.”   
“Well, I should leave you be. Tomorrow?”  
“Tomorrow. You can tell me what that grin is for then.”  
“I don’t know what you mean.” Stella deadpans, raising an eyebrow and then turning on her heel and walking out the room.

* * *

She waves Stella into her office the next day without looking up from her paperwork. While she’s determined to finish her thought before she faces the other woman, she can’t help but be distracted by the step, step, step of shoes on lino. 

She finishes her work and puts down her pen. 

She’s ready.

“Hello you.”  
“Hello.” Stella’s still looking at the books on the walls, mostly dull textbooks, with the occasional children’s book she’d kept in case the girls had a last minute visit.   
“So I have a situation.”  
“Yours?” She turns around, holding a well-loved copy of ‘The Enchanted Wood’ between her palms.   
“ELiza’s.” Tanya says. “Ellie finds it boring.”  
“Boring? How can any child find Take-What-You-Want and Do-As-You-Please boring?”  
“I will leave it to the two of you to discuss the finer points of children’s literature.”  
“And when will we do that?” She asks, suddenly wary.  
“What a brilliant segue into that situation I mentioned.”  
“Which is?”  
“Ellie’s supposed to go to her father’s tonight. But (and this is my fault), when I mentioned I was seeing you, she…got very excited.”  
“About?”  
“You. Seeing you again. I don’t know if you know this Stella,” Tanya begins, pushing her chair back from the desk and watching at the woman at the shelf, “You practically hang the moon for her.”  
“An exaggeration I’m sure.” Stella turns to file the book back on the shelf. “What did you want to do?”  
“Would you be open to an early dinner before her father picks her up?”  
“Yes.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“You said it yourself that you’ve never known me to lie.”  
“Yes, well I was lying when I said that.” Tanya hopes the joke lands. It’s hard to tell with the other woman’s back still to her. Stella’s holding her body in such a stiff way that it hurts her just to watch. “You don’t have to, you know, if you don’t want to.”  
“I’ve said yes. If I didn’t want to, I’d have said no.”  
“This is what worries me.” Reed admits, pursing her lips slightly.  
“And this is why women, on a whole, confuse me.” Stella replies, turning around. The smile on her lips doesn’t quite reach her eyes however.   
“Skipping over the misogynistic implications of that comment, aren’t you a woman?”  
“Sometimes I wonder.” There is no emotion, no fluctuation of voice, nothing to suggest a meaning other than exactly what was said.  
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”   
“Why does it worry you? My being alright with Eleanor joining us?” Head cocked, eyes narrowing slightly.”  
“Well, you’re certainly putting me through some paces here Stella. Remind me not to get on the other side of an interrogation table from you. This…isn’t what I wanted to ask, nor where I wanted to ask, and certainly not when I wanted to ask, but…” She takes a moment, the same moment she takes before she does her first incision, the same moment she does before she gets on her bike. The moment she takes to centre herself. “What are we doing? You and I, I mean?”  
“Tanya?”  
“Because Ellie likes you. And I like you. I like you very much.”  
“But?”  
“I don’t want to lie to my children, and I don’t want them to get hurt.” She sees a flash of worry cross the other woman’s face and then it’s gone. The rigidness of her shoulders has returned again. “When you leave, I mean. Or when you’re done.”  
“Oh.” The other woman’s shoulders loosen up, her eyes darken. “Usually this conversation comes up later.”  
“You’ve had it often?”  
“Haven’t you heard? I’m irresistible.” She deadpans once more.  
“I can’t read you.”  
“How’s this?” She locks eyes with Reed. “When I say something, you can trust that it’s the truth. In this case, we don’t lie to Eleanor, and we don’t let her get hurt if we can help it.” Stella takes a step forward and Tanya’d stomach flips. “If she asks, we say I’m a friend.” She watches Stella as she steps closer. “We are, aren’t we? Friends?” She herself takes a final step towards the smaller woman and they’re all but brushing one another. She can smell Stella’s scent and prays that Stella herself can’t smell the antiseptic scent that lingers around her after an autopsy. 

Reed nods at the question. 

She needs Stella to kiss her. 

If she could think properly, she would unpack that, remind herself that she would merely like for Stella to kiss her, that it’s not a biological imperative or necessity to be kissed by Stella Gibson. 

But she can’t think properly so all she can do is think about how she needs Stella to kiss her. She needs Stella to kiss her. She needs Stella to kiss her.

“Good.” Stella speaks, pulling Tanya from her thoughts. “Then we are friends. That’s what we are.” She steps back. “I need to finish some paperwork. I’ll see you tonight then.” And with that, Stella is gone and Tanya is left alone in her office, flush with desire, wishing she were at home, able to take care of the throbbing in her body. 

Sometimes she really hates being friends with Stella Gibson.

* * *

Dinner is a calm affair. Or, as calm as it can be with Ellie’s rapid fire conversation. She’s eager to catch Stella up on everything since she last saw her. 

Stella, for her part, does admirably in her efforts to keep up with the child. It’s not until she sends her daughter upstairs to fetch her bag, are the two women left alone. “You’ve recovered then?” Stella asks, sitting on a stool by the counter, cradling her glass of wine.   
“Not sure what you mean.”   
“You were red-cheeked when I left your office. I was afraid you may have been getting sick Doctor.” She takes a sip of her wine.   
“Again,” Tanya begins to wipe the counters down for a second time, “Not sure what you mean.”  
“Well, it suited you.” She spies Ellie nearing the doorway with her overnight bag. “You Ms Miss, and I need to have a talk about ‘The Enchanted Wood’. Don’t make that face! Your mother says you find it dull and I demand an explanation.”

A quick triple tap on a car horn interrupts the conversation before it can go any further. 

“That’ll be your father. Say goodbye to Stella.” A blur in the kitchen as Ellie drops her bags, hugs the woman at the counter then runs back to her bag. “Bye Stella! I’ll see you soon!”   
“Have a good evening Hatchling!” Stella replies, attempting to cover her surprise at the unexpected show of affection from the child. “I’ll be back in a minute Stell, I just want to see her off.” Mother and daughter head out, leaving the other woman alone in the kitchen. She listens to Reed’s last minute warnings and reminders to mind her father, brush her teeth, not stay up until sunrise, not to let her father watch anything scary. She focuses on this instead of the thoughts that are running around her mind. If she keeps focusing on the words being spoken on the other side of the door, she can convince herself that her own thoughts are no different than an underwater roar.

She takes a sip of wine. 

She hears the front door slam, another round of beeping from the car, then silence.

She wonders if Reed’s on the other side of wall, having a moment similar to her.

“Did I call you Stell?” Reed asks, finally walking in.  
“Yes, I believe you did.” She takes another sip of wine. “El get off alright?”  
“Yes, apparently they’re off to the cinema. Not sure where that came from.”  
“The cinema?”  
“Calling you Stell. Is that alright?”  
“It’s been a while since I’ve been called that. You’re nervous.”  
“Why do you say that?”  
“You’ve already wiped that counter. Twice actually.”  
“Oh.”  
“Oh.” Stella repeats, taking another sip of wine.  
“Why are you so calm? How are you so calm?”  
“Why shouldn’t I be? Are we waiting for something?”   
“I don’t know Stella, are we?”

The question hangs in the air between them. What are they waiting for? What are they playing at? 

“Well.” Stella rises from her seat. “Thank you for dinner, I’m a little disappointed there were no toast soldiers, but the rest was all lovely.”  
“Are you leaving?”  
“I think it’s for the best, don’t you?” She smiles, not unkindly, and leaves the kitchen. “Have you seen my purse?”  
“In my office I think.” She waits a moment then… “I thought you would stay a little longer.” She moves to the front hall, watching Stella slip into her trench. God, how the woman managed to look like a Burberry ad at all times was infuriating.  
“Did you?”  
“I thought we would…”  
“We would what, Tanya?”   
“You know.”  
“No, I don’t.” 

Another stand off. 

“Why is this so hard?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Sex ruins everything and we haven’t even had any.” 

Stella laughs, loudly - or perhaps it’s loud because the rest of the house is so quiet.

“We don’t have to have sex. I’m not here for that, Tanya. Well…” She smiles slyly,“I’m not here for just that. There’s more to me than sex. I just happen to enjoy it. A lot. I’m good at it. Great, even.”  
“And if I’m not?” Tanya asks, moving closer to Stella.  
“Then we practice. Although…” They meet in the middle of the hall, not quite touching, not quiet apart. “I find those who are most concerned are the ones who have the least to worry about. Now…” A pause and a breath. “I can leave, or I can stay, Tanya. It really is up to you.”

Reed can’t tear her eyes away from Stella’s lips. 

She wants to unwrap the other woman’s coat and blouse and armor and skin until she’s at the heart of her, until she can see everything that makes her laid out before her. She wants to kiss her once more. 

So she does. 

She kisses her firmly, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her close until they’re pressed together. Just the feel of Stella this close sends her spinning and reeling. She hears the other woman gasp slightly at the contact - pulling back to look at her, truly look at her. Her lips apart, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her. There’s a sound, almost animalistic, almost a growl as Stella brings their mouths together again, tangling one hand in Tanya’s hair and using the other to scramble at the hem of her shirt until she can slip between the cotton and the skin. 

Smooth.

That’s all Stella can think of, repeating it over and over in her head until the word loses all meaning and becomes a mantra. 

Smooth. Smooth. Smooth.

Her purse falls to the floor. Reed claws at her trench and manages to help pull it off. “Upstairs.” She hears the other woman moans, so she kicks off her heels and let’s Reed guide her to the stairs, their mouths still on one another and their hands still on one another’s bodies. 

They don’t make it half way up the first time she makes Reed climax. 

One hand down her waistband, her mouth on a particularly sensitive part of her clavicle. She can hear Reed whimper her name, as though the closer she gets to the peak, the quieter she gets until her whole body goes rigid beneath the ministrations of the other woman and then slack.

She feels Reed go loose around fingers, around her body. She feels her breathing slowly return to normal. She tries to shift her hand out but stops at Reed’s whisper for just another minute like this. 

Tanya wants to hold onto this for a moment more. It’s been so long since she’s felt this full. Not just of Stella, but of anyone. It’s been so long since she’s been fucked - since someone has wanted her so badly they couldn’t wait to get to the closest horizontal surface and had to have her right here and right now. 

“Hi.” Stella whispers when she finally opens her eyes.  
“Hi.” She repeats, smiling widely.   
“You alright?”  
“Again.” She commands, bringing their lips together once more.


	5. Chapter 5

She’s always hated flying. The waiting. Being penned in together like animals in a slaughterhouse. There’s never any point in getting settled into her seat in the waiting lounge (if there was even one free) because inevitably, someone would trip over her feet, bump into her, or try to talk to her or a countless number of other inhumanities before they were all herded onto the plane, where it would begin all over again. It didn’t matter if she has a book out, her computer, or even her headphones, plugged in and playing nothing. There was always someone or something that would shatter her focus and attention. Perhaps today, it wouldn’t be so unwelcome, she thinks, smiling back at the handsome man across from her in the airport lounge. 

It was that smile that does her in. It’s so familiar, like a wolf in a children’s story. So like her very own when she has someone in her sights. It’s not often she’s given the chance to be pursued and she relishes is. She stretches her legs in front of her and feels his eyes on her. It’s not unwelcome. She checks the time - there’s plenty. 

She feels the need to shake Belfast off of her. She wants to be back in her flat in her wine colored sweater and her books and herself. He makes a comment about the flight being delayed. It’s not the best (she fears she’s overestimated his prowess) but it’s an opening and she’ll take it. She invites him to go for a walk, stretch their legs… He accepts and within moments they find themselves locked in a family room until they hear boarding being called for their flight. 

She rinses her mouth, runs a finger through her hair, reapplies her lipstick and wordlessly walks out and joins the queue to board.

* * *

When she lands back in London, she has a text from Reed. She ignores it until she gets home. Once home, she ignores it until she goes for a swim. Once her swim is finished, she ignores it until she showers. Once showered, she ignores it until it’s bedtime and she tells herself it’s too late to call. 

What has she done, she wonders, unable to lose herself in the radio static that plays her off to sleep. What is Reed expecting of her now? Some sort of … relationship? She tosses about. She has always hated the night - falling asleep was always a challenge. Sleep was a uselessness and inefficient use of time she thought to herself for the umpteenth time as she forces her eyes closed and begins the breathing exercises - deep breaths - in, filling her lungs and out, as empty as they’ll go - over and over, until the influx of oxygen in her blood makes her sleepy. Tomorrow is almost here, and she’ll deal with it then.

* * *

It’s not until dinner at her desk the following night that she has a chance to call Tanya. The phone rings and rings and right before she allows herself to hang up, the line picks up and she hears the warm voice of the other woman quietly greeting her with a simple “Hello, you.”  
“Hi.”  
“You landed I see.”  
“I did. Yes, thanks.”  
“Good.” The sound of papers shuffling.  
“I take it we’re both spending our night the same way?”  
“Hot dates with handsome men?”  
“That’s the one.”  
“What are you working on?”  
“A review of a larceny case. You?”  
“Riveting. Audits.”  
“Did you lose another body, Doctor?”  
“Bodies and my house keys.” She begins to laugh, “God, I’m an awful person. I’m going to hell, aren’t I?”  
“I don’t believe in hell.”  
“No, of course not.”  
“What do you mean ‘of course not’?”  
“Just that Stella Gibson goes where angels fear to tread. Afraid of neither Monsters, Men, or Eternal Damnation.”  
“I ah, need to talk to you.”  
“Aren’t we talking now?”  
“We are. I mean, about what happened. During my visit.”  
“Oh. Ok.” 

The papers stop shuffling from the other end of the line. Stella rises from her seat and begins to pace, barefoot, in her small office.

“I don’t… I mean, I don’t do relationships.”

Silence.

“This was a conversation I should’ve had prior, I suppose. But the truth is, I don’t do relationships. I don’t want to be reformed.”  
“I don’t want to reform you.”  
“I’m not the romantic type.” She ignores the snort of laughter from the other end.  
“Stella, have you slept with someone else?”  
“Yes.”  
“Were you safe about it? Was it consensual?”  
“Yes.”  
“Do you want to sleep with me again?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then I don’t see what we need to talk about. So long as you’re safe, and I do mean that Stella, so long as you’re safe every time. Every. Last. Time. You are free to do what and who you’d like. I’d love a cup, thanks Ron.”  
“Ron? You’re having this conversation with Ron in the room?”  
“He wasn’t in the room, he was at the door. Was that it?”  
“Yes.”

Silence.

“You alright, Stella? You’re acting as if you were looking for a different reaction and I’m sorry, I don’t know how to give it to you.”  
“I just, wasn’t expecting this to go like this.”  
“I had hoped you had gotten to know enough of me to know that I’m a realist. It’s not like I’m about to uproot my life and my daughter to traipse after you in London, or expect you to do the same for me. To be honest, it’s…nice actually. A little like uni all over again, a quick shag and then back to real life. You sound almost disappointed.”  
“A little, I suppose.” She feigns sadness in her voice. “I’m fairly attractive, and fairly good in bed - Why wouldn’t you traipse after me?”  
“Fairly good is exaggerating. I thought you were rubbish.”  
“Rubbish? Is that why you kept shagging me?”  
“Over and over again, yes. In hopes you’d get better. Pity you never did. Oh well,” Reed sighs dramatically, “We’ll just have to keep trying until you get better at it.” 

Neither of them mention the upcoming trial, her return to Belfast.

“I should go.” Reed says softly, “And maybe this is naive of me, but I was hoping that this trip wouldn’t change anything between us, in a, negative way. Because I like you, I do, as a friend.”  
“Why do I feel like you’re letting me down gently?” Stella laughs, looking out the window to the dark London night.  
“Why do you think I’m not?” Reed laughs, genuinely and earnestly. “Go home, Stella. Get some sleep. You sound like shit.” 

With that, the line disconnects and leaves Stella alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless Pimping - but there's a playlist for songs inspired by this on 8tracks - just search for the same username as this.


End file.
